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Room 624

New Moon, Page 96, Bella, “I could tell the truth-if I wanted to spend the rest of my life in a padded cell.”

I know a lot of it isn't logical, but I've never been in an aslyum! How would I know?

1. Chapter 1

Rating 3/5   Word Count 660   Review this Chapter

Room 624

New Moon, Page 96, Bella, “I could tell the truth-if I wanted to spend the rest of my life in a padded cell.”

“Good morning, Swan,” The nurse said, walking into my room.

“Steven,” I nodded, trying to annoy him.

He sighed, “Swan, I told you my name is Nurse Locker.”

“I told you not to come in my room.” I hissed back.

He looked annoyed, his musical voice sharp in the small room, “Nurse Phillips and Nurse Jackson aren’t here today.”

“Nurse Jackson can go burn in-!”


I sighed, dropping it and not wanting to get an overdose. I stared at him as he gave me my shot, his red eyes that he claimed where due to a birth defect focused on my arm.

“I know what you are,” I spat. My voice cutting the silence like a knife. He jumped in surprise as he put away his supplies, otherwise ignoring me. “I’m not an idiot, you know why I’m here and you know I’m not crazy.”

I tried to play it off as the drug didn’t effect me. But it was already doing its job, I was slightly calmer. I ignored it by filling my head with enraged thoughts, it wasn’t hard, I just had to look at Steven’s eyes and I was immediately pissed.

“Yes you are Swan. That is why you’re here.”

“No,” I said, voice stinging. I controlled myself, “I’m-”

“If you’re not crazy, then why do you stick so close to your vampire story,” he retorted, “Most sane people would have lied by now!”

“It’s the principle!” And the fact that I just can’t go home.

“You’re insane,” He hissed.

“You’re defensive,” I said, monotone, back.

“Swan, the only reason you could possibly be here is if you’re crazy! Which you are!” he said childishly.

“No I’m not.” I stared at him for a while, pursing my lips “You think you’re so much better than the others, you’re not a killer right? That’s not what your eyes say, but you still justify yourself. You hate what you are,” he flinched, recoiling away from me, “You steal from blood banks, everyday knowing that even though you don’t directly kill, you might as well anyway. People are dying because of what you do. It eats you alive every day, knowing you’re too weak to live on animals. You’re a hypocrite and you know it. And I’m the crazy one?!” I laughed harshly, then froze, “I know, you know I know and that that’s why I want you to stay away. You and Nurse Raven. You and her both are monsters. If you know I’m not crazy, why haven’t you taken me away and made me disappear like you want to so badly?” he stayed stiller than the usual human posture he adapted. My voice became tinted with realization and grew softer, “You’re too weak for that too.”

“Shut up! Just shut up!” he yelled, fleeing the room faster than he was supposed to.

Good riddance, I thought, I don’t need any filthy leeches in my room, breathing down my neck. I already had to deal with that, not again.

I was over my head in pain, but not the illusionistic pain most here have. No, mine was worse. It was real, it was burning, it was choking, and it wasn’t going to let go.

It was to pain left by the ones I loved, who I thought loved me.

Gray. Everything is gray. Color is a privilege. One I don’t have.

At least there were different shades of it in this damned room.

I crawled under my cot and curled into a ball. I shivered and took a breath. The dust drifted on me, covering my long hair with little flecks. It felt so much like rain from Forks. I hate the sun now, loathed it even.

I hate the place I’m forced to live now.

Jacksonville, Florida. Wallowitz Asylum. Room 624.